


kisses are sweet medicine

by grab_n_growl



Series: coughing fits [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Hallucinations, Healthy Relationships, Healthy discussions, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, NSFW, Polyamorous Characters, Polyamory, Requited Love, Spoilers, Supportive Polyamory, Threesome, good feelings all around here, ptsd themes, we stan healthy polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grab_n_growl/pseuds/grab_n_growl
Summary: If Mary had kicked him to the curb like a mangey dog and cracked his heart, justimaginingwhat Charles or Javier could do to him if they found out about his disorganized yearnings and pining for them broke the rest of it in his chest. Maybe the fear, the despicable urge toget it over and done with, was why Arthur had cornered the small, graceful cat of a man into the edge of the rotten wood and tiles on the bottom floor of Shady Belle while everyone else peacefully slumbered or lost themselves too to the drink. Watched the man's lips part in something like surprise. Notdisgust, notdispleasure, notfearnoranxiety, when Arthur had rested his arms on either side of Javier's head andleaned in-hesitated-in his search for medicine for a bleedin' heart-





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of my finished requests! although the thread got deleted so i cannot remember who this was for- whoever asked for more javier/arthur and javier/charles, here is your boys!
> 
> also I have a tumblr now! come request stories from me here: https://grab-n-growl.tumblr.com

The phantoms and ghosts breathing in the walls seemed to choke and stutter whenever Javier and Charles crawl in to lavish against his flanks, his spine, his chest- _protective._  
  
Arthur doesn't see _haunting_ black eyes in the corners-  
  
    faces of _wolves and dogs_ teething the chair by the window-  
  
        blood-soaked _knives and guns_ glittering in the glint of the moon-  
  
            not anymore.  
  
Not when he would wake up more often than not with cigarette-smoke collarbone pushed against his muzzle, exotic fruit-scent a pleasant _buzz_ across his tongue every breath he managed to take in, paced alongside the coyote's rhythmic breathing. Not when he would shift and feel a solid body behind him, swallowing him whole despite his own size, gentle mass wrapped around his stomach like an anchor alongside every press of muscled breastbone against his spine on every soft snore the huntsman uttered. The cowboy had never been one to sleep with others- the only one he'd ever let into his bed in his youth was John, when he was young and _scared-_  
  
Hallucinating ropes around his throat, chased him in his _dreams-_  
  
With no one but Arthur to turn to.   
  
He'd let the scrawny boy into his cot those late-nights, soothed him in all the gruff sensitivity an outlaw could manage to procure. Didn't tell him how many times Arthur himself lay awake at night, staring at John's slumbering face beside him like somehow his own heart would be comforted in the fact that he'd _done something for someone else._  
  
Might help dispel the specters that haunted his head. _Never did,_ but he hoped, those days.  
  
He'd long since stopped hoping when he and Charles had settled down on their flower-studded homestead- no matter how sweet the blossoms were, the quiet of the house, the safety of four walls and a door, the softness of a _real bed,_ it never seemed to make them leave. Not until he'd had a terrible coughing fit their first winter, laid up in bed and _exhausted,_ and woke up every morning with the huntsman softly caressing oils into his chest and soothing his ragged chokes into satiation. Had peered up that day into the peach-lit face hovering over him, sickly-yellow hues fading in and out of his vision, grasping and coaxing until Charles indulged the unspoken request and  _looked at him-_  
  
That was the first time they'd kissed. Arthur was back on his feet in the hour following, cobwebs and broken dreams cleared from his head and heart and chest. Had curled up against the huntsman's side where he'd wandered to sit on their porch, aimlessly filing down a thick piece of wood, peeling back the fleshy bark. _Wordless, for a long while._ Contented to simply  _exist_ together, to be together, but the stag just _had to say it._ Wasn't a man who half-assed things, wasn't a man to leave things unsaid,  
  
_not anymore-_

 

 

_i meant it. the kiss. i'm sorry if i've made ya' uncomfortable, just... thought you should know. that i... feel somethin' for you, in what's left of my heart. felt somethin' for a long time, now._

 

 

Manages to tongue the words out through raspy, cough-hoarse throat and fell victim to those deep chocolate eyes and _ever-so-patient smile-_

 

 

_oh, you sweet fool. i wouldn't have kissed you if i hadn't meant it, too. you mean more to me than anyone else. you are more to me than anyone else. i'd follow you anywhere._

 

 

They kissed a lot more after that. _Did more_ than just that. How many times had Arthur been bent over the side of their kitchen table? Hanging for dear life off the edges of the wood, begging for the man hovering over him to go deeper, _harder_  into his body _._ How many times had Charles found a throne on top of him? Dragged their hips together, held the stag inside of him and rode them both to oblivion. Had laid together afterwards, cocooned in softness and gentleness, entwining their fingers and pressing naked skin a pleasant pressure together, idly telling stories of memories and futures. Felt _good._ Especially when the huntsman would stay in Arthur's bed, curled around him or against him in every-which-way, lulling the sickly's restless mind and anxieties that swelled so often in his chest those first few months together on their little homestead.

There wasn't a word- or a string of them- concocted that expressed what they _were, together,_ until the next time Arthur had gotten sick. A cold that had torn through his weak immune system like a bat out of hell, rattling in his chest, chilling him to the bone and burning his skin off his body, maw only able to moan weakly and cough spittle. It was tinted a hue pink and the _vision_ of it had spikes of panic rising in Charles' chest, left him frantic in the way that was an undercurrent of furious energy. And as much as they wanted to keep their sanctuary, remain _alone and forgotten_ by the world around them, the huntsman just couldn't risk the frail man's life to keep it.

The doctor got to him just in time, flooding his senses with needles and acid-smells, until he couldn't remember one day from the next-

Aside from the day Arthur had opened his eyes and seen Charles over him, pressing thumbs into his temples to gently massage the fever and pains away. Had watched the man lean down and press their foreheads together, saw the flickers of _relief_ flecked with remnants of _fear-_

 

 

_i love you, arthur morgan._

 

 

He'd had just enough strength that day to _smile-_

 

 

_love you too, charles._

 

 

Another kiss shared- _medicine-_  and Arthur was up and moving around only a short while later _._ They were together after that- but they always had been, hadn't they? Had pledged to be together through thick-and-thin years ago, even stretching back to the era felt eons ago when soft, coaxing voice had settled Arthur long enough to pull a bow on the snowy mountaintops, bringing down two does all on his own with minimal guidance. They'd been together in heart and spirit for much, much longer before they'd actually said it aloud.

But it hadn't washed away _the other feelings._ The ones Arthur had felt for a man of hair immaculately brushed to raven-silk softness in the afternoon sheen, eyes pitch and aloof and yet simmering beneath the surface with a passion for who and what he was. The man who wore crisp white button-ups and pristine vests silk-embroidered and well-cared for, golden trails hanging from his lapels and matching the polished glow of the metal trailing the toe-and-edges of his boots. Smelled of foreign cigarette smoke, crisp and spiced, with a touch of exotic fruit that bloomed on the tongue when he passed by with his straight-backed swagger and confident step. _Beautiful, really._ But utterly _exhausting_ to be around when the realization had hit one booze-filled night in Shady Belle, curled up alone in his cot and watching the lamplight casting shadowy shapes above his head across the ceiling, that his heart yearned for _more than one person._

Charles. Javier. _Mary._

Maybe that's why he'd gotten so goddamn drunk- because he was a _fucking mess then-_

What the _hell_ had he been thinking?

    It would never work out, _could never_ work out.

        No one ever chose him.

            No one ever _wanted him. _

If Mary had kicked him to the curb like a mangey dog and cracked his heart, just _imagining_ what Charles or Javier could do to him if they found out about his disorganized yearnings and pining for them broke the rest of it in his chest. Maybe the fear, the despicable urge to _get it over and done with,_ was why Arthur had cornered the small, graceful cat of a man into the edge of the rotten wood and tiles on the bottom floor of Shady Belle while everyone else peacefully slumbered or lost themselves too to the drink. Watched the man's lips part in something like _surprise._ Not _disgust,_ not _displeasure,_ not _fear_ nor _anxiety,_ when Arthur had rested his arms on either side of Javier's head and _leaned in-_

_hesitated-  
_        _in his search for medicine for a bleedin' heart-_

Felt his heart _stop_ even through the alcoholic fog and warm fuzz in his stomach when he'd felt nimble, thin fingers _so delicately_ grab hold of his flanks, a bare pressure into his body. Made him _panic,_ to see the musician staring at him with half-lidded eyes in the night, purple-and-blue shadows cast over them both doing nothing to hide _the expressions._ Not pushing him away. _Waiting. Watching._ Something, in the deep depths of those bottomless ebony eyes, there flashed hints of chocolate-warmth and sunny days and an _expectance._ A languid _pleasure,_ like this whole scenario was something the musician _had been waiting for. Gazed_ at the _flush_ on Arthur's face- _he couldn't do this-_

Had fled the next instant, wandering back up into his room and shutting the door with a cutting _click._

They never spoke about it, but the way Javier looked at him seemed to change. Or, perhaps Arthur became a little more _astutely observant_ of the simmering gaze laid upon his spine when his back was turned defenseless in the act of washing his face in the wash bin or hoisting one of the grain sacks up on his shoulders. The way liquid-black seemed to _trail him, pick him apart,_ from every angle no matter where he was or what he was doing. Could feel the weight of it sweltering beneath his clothes, hotter and muggier than the swamp-fog surrounding them on all corners- made sweat drip down his back, made his fingers _itch,_ heart toilsome and _beating faster._ The cowboy didn't recall such a gaze as the one Javier fit him then- and that day he _challenged-_

 

 

_up for some knife tricks, arthur?_

 

 

That pretty, pretty knife  _glittered_ in the moonlight, entangled with flowers upon flowers compounded amongst vines and bleached skulls. Etched beautifully, a work of _art,_ one Arthur had drawn from memory alone once or twice, enraptured by something so dangerous and yet so _gorgeous._ Kind of like Javier himself, as much as the stag wished to whisk those feelings away- but like his own reflection in the murky waters of the pond, it kept coming back again and again no matter how many ripples he sent through it. The _burn, the burn,_ that crackled and sizzled in the arch of his ribcage, settled against his diaphragm to pull his breath _taunt-_

Maybe that was why he agreed.

To get _rid of it,_ as best he could.

 

 

_sure. but i ain't about to go easy on you._

 

 

The _grin_ he was flashed was _dangerous,_ all sharp 'round the edges, as words whispered like a hot breath down the back of the neck between them-

 

 

_hoping you wouldn't._

 

 

Arthur had tried not to _stare,_ to _drool,_ at the way those whiskey-toned fingers so-carefully trailed their tips along the needle-thin flank of his pretty, pretty knife, studying the stag settled before him like this was all a _game_ that he _intended to win._ The prize? The cowboy wasn't sure. But the _thrill of pain,_ the _promise of it,_ kept him stationary and had his teeth baring and chest rumbling in threat to _hurry it up, then._ He'd had too much to drink, too much, too much. Knew he was going to be _shit,_ but he so desired for the pain, to focus on something _else_ other than the pitch-black of Javier's eye- 

Charles' soft voice floating behind him somewhere-

    asking if Mary-Beth was alright-

        she said _okay,_ Arthur thought. Wasn't sure, was too busy listening to Charles' mumble of _keep your chin up-_

 

 

_let's play._

 

 

**yes.**

It was very obvious they were both drunk, in different levels perhaps, but enough to be already tipping their feet into the abyss of rabbit-hole. _Flash, flash,_ their knives kept a tempestuous rhythm against the table- Javier's palm sliding _smooth_ across the handle as he spun it around in his hand- coaxed it to skip through the gaps between his fingers before striking down again and _again._ Gorgeous, _beautiful,_ and when such a clean maneuver ended with a slice to the middle finger that made vermillion bloom black in the night, when Javier _moaned with it,_ Arthur had been hit by an overpowering desire to suck it off.

Wondered if Javier's fingers could work that precise, _that fast,_ in other ways.

    If he kissed it, would it all go away? _Medicine._

A dark mass shifted at the edges of his vision, made his own knife sink into the edge of his pinky, shocking a welcomed, awakening _sting_ through his system. A spark at the ends of his already-frayed nerves- Charles was there, only a few feet away. _Smoking,_ the stag could tell, with the stillness of muscle and the sways of one of those thick arms to meet his own lips-

Licked his own and wondered what it would be like to taste the smoke off the huntsman's.

Winced when his rhythm faltered, piercing blade through his skin again, deeper this time. _Worse._ But Javier only seems to smile, _not unkindly,_ when Arthur jerked and grumbled darkly at his loss of money for his mistake. 

 

 

 _too good fishin'. too good with a knife. anything you ain't good at?_

 

 

 

Those black eyes _glittered-_

 

 

 _not much._

 

 

The bare honesty made Arthur snort something fierce before stumbling away from the table, recoiling to the corner to lick his wounds- metaphorically and truly. Curled his tongue 'round the edge of his palm, taste of copper a blossom in his mouth and sparking wonderment of _what Javier's skin tasted like._ Would it be like those foreign cigarettes he smoked, unreadable name on the carton, spiced like a cinnamon-whiskey shot? Would it be like dew-dropped fruit-skin, plush flesh, sweet and sour all at once like the hue that seemed heavy around his throat, like he had somehow gotten his hands on a bottle of expensive cologne or soap. Would it be dirty? Dusty? Smooth? Calloused? Probably all of it, _all of it._ But whether it was or wasn't any of those, would Arthur refuse the chance?

 

 

 _nasty cut?_

 

 

Probably not.

 

 

 _i'm alright._

 

 

Charles always was the one to be more _astute_ between them, both thinkers but one _internalizing_ and pouring-pining into journals while the other allowed his decisions to ripple down his body like a waterfall, in the way his muscles bunched and released when he hooked and snapped his bow. Picturesque _strength, all of him._ In ways Arthur was and wasn't and yet, so capable of  _gentleness. Tenderness._ Like the tone of his voice when he'd come 'round the corner of the wagon beneath the dull lamplight near Pearson's wagon, massive paws taking the stag's only slightly-smaller ones into his- _inspecting._

Arthur had to remind himself to _breathe_ with those fingertips so carefully holding his, a keen eye scouring the shallow knife injuries-

 _Did he know?_

    All the things he did to the cowboy's heart?

        Probably not.

Those eyes were _so dark_ when they looked up, met his, curled in some sort of fondness, like seeing him injured was such a common occurrence it was a concern when he wasn't bleeding in some way or another at any point in time. _Soft, so soft,_ like plush black pillows-

    He was in desperate need of a health tonic at this rate, his heart so liable to _explode._

 

 

 _careful next time. you're one of our best shots, can't have you smarting in a fight, can we?_

 

 

Their smiles mirrored one another's, amused and quiet, like they were sharing a _secret._

 

 

 _i prefer to keep myself on the edge of goin' mad._

 

 

He tries not to let his thoughts linger on the way Charles' pads  _lingered_ along the line of his palm, like a _caress,_ when he pulled back and allowed the blonde to escape from his grasp. A grasp he wanted to _fall into, fall victim to, wanted it-_

 

 

 _i prefer you comfortable and happy._

 

 

The shadow is gone in the next instant, wandering off to the edge of the swampy water edges with a burning cigarette lodged in his teeth, leaving Arthur behind in a cloud of smoke and pine-needles and _desire._ How _badly_ he wanted to drag Charles back to his flank, to keep him,  _forever, with him,_ however implausible the idea. He's shaking with want, _shaking with it,_ as he trailed back into the house like a slinking hound in the night, dragging his paws across the floor as he stared at the patches of skin the huntsman had touched. Tried to recall the sensation from memory alone, as fleeting as it _was-_

 

 

 _how's the hand?_

 

 

Arthur had barely suppressed a _shiver_ in the way Javier's voice purred like warm velvet over his spine, curling a caress down the vertebrae- _expensive silk-_

 

 

 _cut to hell. yours don't look much better though, partner. distracted much?_

 

 

The snark in his tone is met with a twitch of lips hovering in front of his eyes, alone and together in the tiled space just before the staircase. _Alone, alone,_ and it's dark and quiet just like that night only few before where the stag had been _so fucked up_  he'd almost made a terrible, horrible mistake with this man _._ Still was a mess, but in a different way that night. Whether the musician noticed or not, he gave no inclination- always so _aloof. Put together._ What part of him would _ever_ want someone like Arthur? This old, ugly criminal without a hint of finesse, who felt more at home in a pigsty than he did in any fancy house lit with chandeliers and wine-glasses.

Javier deserved to live in a place like that. Looked the part, too-

But there was so much about him that the blonde _didn't understand._ Like when fingers _reached for him then,_ his own, enfolding together. Javier's weren't bleeding anymore, his cuts, but they still stood as thin dark lines in the black of the atmosphere, ones Arthur can just catch a glimpse of when confident hands lifted the stag's up to examine.

 _Quiet._ Quiet for a long moment.

 

 

 _... maybe. seems like i should be the one going easy on you, compadre._

 

 

The idea is both repulsive and desperately welcomed. And Arthur was torn between snarling away the concern like a wounded animal intent on escaping the jaws of _certain death,_ and falling to his knees and _begging_ for the musician to be gentle with him because his heart is broken enough as it is- can't take  _much more of this._ The feelings war and burn, deep in his chest, when Javier lifted the calloused palm in his to kiss one of his knuckles, a thumb rubbing with more tenderness than Arthur would ever deserve across the back. Tracing veins, tendons, ligament, muscle.

    Kiss might've well have been a tonic, for any pains he felt shivered away in _numbness_ and _pleasantries_ and _shock._

When their eyes met, the cowboy swore his heart _stopped._ He needed to tell them both, Charles and Javier, to  _stop doing that to him._ He was liable for heart-attack or stroke if they kept this up, attacking him one after the other. With all of that _feeling_ in those black eyes, two pairs so similar and yet so different, and Arthur barely had the strength or state of mind to huff some kind of strangled laughter and retreat unsteady up the stairs-

 

 

 _don't think so. this old man still has some life left._

 

 

He swears he hears Javier whisper something under his breath, but he felt like he'd been swimming for days, _weeks,_ and his ears were so padded with cotton static and clouds that he couldn't focus on it. When Arthur had climbed into his cot that night, he'd convulsed beneath the oily lamplight at his flank, casting telltale shadows across the wall as he'd wrapped a hand around his cock and murmured two names against the clasp of his own palm. Like repeating them like a chant, a mantra, a _prayer,_ would somehow conjure them to be there with him. Had spilled over his hand across his stomach, leaking thick and opaque- _what would their cum look like?_ \- with names on his tongue, _so desperate._

 

 

 _Charles. Javier._

  
Nowadays, when he opened his eyes, he often didn't have to call. They were there, pressed against him, around him, creating a protective blanketing around the man between them. _Safe._ In ways Arthur never thought he would ever be, was _destined_ to be, was _deserving of._ But ever since Charles had dragged his sorry soul here, ever since Javier had joined them in the struggle to keep their cowboy from dying literally or metaphorically, he'd begun to think a little differently.

And when he nudged his nose beneath Javier's jaw, just to hear his heartbeat  _thrum_ in his veins, and was rewarded with a sleepy mumble and a press of lips groggy against his forehead, he felt peace. When he slid a hand backwards, tracing into Charles' scarred cheek and felt his calloused palm be brushed with a fond kiss and gentle sigh against his skin, well, he felt peace then too.

 _Real peace.  
_

 

 

...

" _Charles._ The _ladies_ are fussy, again. "

 

 

It had become morning routine- _daily_ routine. For them to creak out of Arthur's bed, popping joints and muscles growing older by the day, and shuffle on into the life of _truly living._ As simple as it was, perhaps _boring,_ it was more than any of them could ask for. To be able to eat a _real breakfast_ every morning instead of something canned-sweet and short-lived. To be able to _laugh_ openly, _smile_ warmly, and not to have to fear that any noise may lure Pinkertons or O'Driscolls or any other manner of predator to their doorstep. Charles and Arthur would help each other get dressed, would muss their hair and rub sleep from the other's eyes and kiss lips awake, breathing energy into their hearts and lungs. But Javier seemed to _hover_ in those moments. _Hesitated,_ in ways the stag had never truly seen before in the man-

Like a beaten dog _waiting-_

 _Cautious,_ to see if it was allowed inside on a cold, rainy day, or would be annexed to the yard to fend for itself.

Arthur knew how that felt. Had known it for months upon months- _years-_ trapped in the life of a criminal they'd so desperately tried to paint as _something else._ And it had fooled them all, hadn't it? Had got him. Got Javier. Got Charles. Because Dutch was _different, different, different._ Made people follow him, made people _hang off his words,_ like he was a gracious master in the sea of a slavering wild hounds desperate for a home, for any sliver of affection, of _acknowledgement._

The cowboy always drew Javier in at those times, in the beginning. Would tangle fingers together, calloused and scarred, stained with a lifetime of hardship- would pull him _close, together,_ like it was nothing special. Like it was _normal._ Because it was. For them, anyway. Always would be, always _damn would be,_ if Arthur had any say it in. It wouldn't be like _Dutch, no-_

 _Never._

 _Conditional love_ had no place under their roof. They asked for nothing. Gave it _freely, as it should be._ As it should've always been.

Over the weeks... the musician seemed to adjust to the idea, just like Arthur had, that he _deserved to be loved as he was._

But it was an admittedly amusing change of pace- the three of them taking care of horses and chickens and living their life in a piece of land forgotten and unknown to the rest of the world.

 

 

" Did you feed them? "

 

 

 _God,_ these stupid _chickens_ really were the epitome of entertainment in their home.

 

 

" _Yes. In order._ Just like you said. Still got fussy, near poked holes in my boots. Almost out of feed as well. "

 

 

Arthur doesn't bother to hide his rasping chuckles behind a palm, deciding to fit mirthful eyes upon Javier- a few stray feathers caught in his jeans and looking utterly exasperated- and Charles- looking so very much like a mother who's been told her children just stole twenty dollars worth of candy from the general store. Only makes his laugh _harder, warmer,_ when two pairs of deep eyes slid towards him- _frustrated but amused._ There is an undercurrent there. Something _sweet, soft._

That irate chickens is the most of their worries nowadays.

Aside from the way the fall of the sunlight in-halo against the musician's cheekbones makes Arthur's heart _pull, tug, shiver, desperate_ to get closer. To pull him in, to _be pulled in,_ into the gorgeous presence of such an incredible survivor of a man. It's been getting admittedly _easier_ and _harder_ to face himself in the mirror after speaking with the coyote. To see the minute tremors in his own biceps, the shake in his calloused hands, the blown of the black in the blue of his eye, and the way he always, _always_ looks... _breathless._ It happens again and again, every time. And although the deep _burning desires_ have leaked away into something more _comfortable,_ the energy still pulsated in his heart. Along his veins. Ones he wondered, ones he _wished,_ he could feel Javier's lips along.

Like the kiss to his knuckles after a round of _fillet._

Damn near filleted his heart, too.

 

 

" ... Alright. I'll go down and get some at the store. Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone, hm? "

 

 

It doesn't settle in Arthur's brain that this would've been the _second time_ it'd been him and Javier, just the two of them, since he'd arrived. Not yet. Not until he'd chuckled deep in his chest at the way Charles' features twisted in some kind of amused stress, lines his lips thoughtlessly trace when the huntsman leaned down for a kiss. Not until he'd watched the man's back sway into the distance and it was _just him._

 _Just Arthur and Javier._

Left where they'd been settled on their porch, morning light pouring peach-sweet and decadent like whipped cream and golden-toasted fluff across their figures. Across _the musician,_ delicately tracing the slopes of his face, the hard lines and soft curves, against the whiskey-tone of his bared forearms and glinting in the sliver of chest between the opened lax of his lapels. Looking _soft._ Looking _strong._ Looking like everything and nothing all at once and the cowboy's fingers _itch-  
_  
Feels his heart _twist, twist, twist-_

 

 

 _you should spend more time with him. i know you want to, and i know he wants to. and i'm tired of watching you two fools dance around it._

 

 

Arthur almost, _almost laughs_ as the recent conversation he and Charles had murmured quiet and thick in the darkness a few days prior then rose to the forefront of his mind. When dark hands had folded his, pressed together, tracing lines and histories into the calloused and edges, hovering with the _shadows_ of lit candlelight across their faces. The huntsman's soft voice rising in his head alongside the drawl of his own-

 

 

 _i... things are different, now. don't know if i should, might just bring up old wounds._

 

 

Lord knows between the three of them, for as much as he acted differently, Arthur had the weakest heart. Broken so many times it was barely held together even now, and there was an unstated _undercurrent_ between them that _they needed to treat him gently and delicately._ That _he needed that,_ that _care._ That pushing him into too much, too fast, would only be like dragging his flesh the other way from barbed wire, sinking pain and agony into him. The last thing they wanted, _the last thing._

But... there were times he could be _softly persuaded-_

 

 

 _you have a wound right now. you both do. you're both walking around with a thorn in the side you keep pretending isn't there. you'll both feel better if you just... sit, for a bit. together. remember, like how we did? and we worked it out? not saying it won't be hard, but... i prefer you comfortable and happy._

 

 

Ah, yes. _Comfortable and happy._ Charles always had been the rational one, hadn't he?

Arthur supposed he might as well listen for once.

 

 

" ... Got time to help this old fool brush the horses? "

 

 

Something _curled, thick and sweet,_ like honey in his stomach at the gaze Javier turned on him, black gaze struck chocolate with the glints of sunrise across them, flecked gold and hazel and tempestuous and _bright._ Gentle and swallowing him whole in the pitch of it, in the plush dark of his pupils staring down, _down, down,_ at the cowboy curled up on the steps at his feet. It _pulsed,_ like waves of heat off desert sand, when the musician _smiled_ a touch and stood _tall, straight-_

 

 

" Sure. Better than getting pecked at by spoiled chickens. "

 

 

It's _quiet._ And, shivering in the golden rays, Javier looks... _hesitant. Watching,_ seeking, as Arthur pulled himself off the wood and roamed the little trail-path down to their barn, built with his and Charles' hands over the course of a month. It stood strong, _sturdy,_ through all kinds of weather and storms, as did the house and everything else they'd built here. And Arthur _wondered,_ if part of the musician's caution was because he hadn't been a part of the foundation, hadn't been a part of that solid sheet of brick and wood and _togetherness._

But Arthur didn't see why he couldn't be a part of the rest. Of the _build-up._ Of the _maintenance._ Any structure, no matter how well-built, rotted and collapsed without proper care. Without careful eyes and knowing hands to take care of the wood and stone. And he figured... _he figured,_ why couldn't Javier be a part of that? It was just as important, _just as important-_

 

 

" ... You know, you look, ah... _a lot better._ Than... the last time I saw you. "

 

 

Stuttered, choppy and halting, and it is everything _unlike_ the Javier he knew. Prompted him to swing a turn as their boots crushed hay beneath their heels, the horses already beginning to sniff and perk at the promise of treats and a good brushing. _Amused him,_ briefly, in the moment he had the mind to. Because when his eye caught the other man... he couldn't think of anything else but _him._

How _small_ he looked. And Arthur realized that was because _he was making himself so._ In the slope of his shoulders, curved towards his chest like an instinctual shield against the forces of existence. The lower of his head, hair back to that beautiful, silken quality and yet still styled baring the marks of an uncaring _knife_ that had tore it into messy, ruffled tufts. He'd shaved now, jaw no longer coated in patchy, untouched stubble, and Arthur _longed_ to reach his fingers out to _touch._ But he wasn't sure to be _welcomed,_ not in the downward tilt of his chin towards the floor, coal gaze peering through lashes and not quite meeting those blue eyes and without the comfort of the bowler hat he'd used to wear. Muscles _twitching_ along the length of his cheeks in his swallow, deep and thick and settled between them, as those talented fingers lay compounded and twisted in front of his abdomen. Like a _child, like a kid,_ waiting to be scolded for doing something _wrong._ Looked _tired, rough, unsure of himself and everything around him._

Arthur was struck in the chest by how much he looked like the first time they'd met- 

    Skeletal remains, filthy and starving and _sick,_ a tortured hound on the streets just _begging_ for a scrap of kindness. Kindness Dutch had given him. That the _gang_ had given-

        Whether it was done in _sincerity_ or not, Arthur wasn't quite sure.

 

 

  
" Been workin' on it. Ain't got no trains to rob that'd blow my lungs out anymore. Just unruly farm animals. Though I will say, those chickens give those trains a run for their money, what with me losin' breath chasin' 'em 'round everywhere. "

 

 

His own voice sounds far, far away, even to his own ears. 

Javier just looks _discomforted,_ for a moment, before he delicately grabs one of the brushes and sets to work on the old race-horse the three of them had dragged all the way from Tumbleweed to their embrace. How quickly they'd gotten along together and Arthur could _see it,_ the man he used to know, in the way his hands so carefully traced her black coat. Words murmured _quiet and soft,_ as he pat along the thick of her neck, twisted a sugarcube into her mouth as the cowboy took another stall.

Worked in _quiet. Silence._ For a long time.

 

 

 _just talk to him, arthur._

 

 

... Okay.

 

 

" I don't blame ya', you know. For sidin' with Dutch. Man was a good talker, I'll give him that. We all knew what was happening, what was going to happen, what could've been different. I understand... why you didn't stay with us. Frankly, I'm kinda glad you didn't. I was dyin'. Dyin' real fast. Almost did, on that mountain, right after I'd got John out. I didn't... thinkin' about it now, I didn't want you to see me like that, anyway. It was hard enough saying goodbye to him and making him leave me behind, than to have _you too..._ It was bad enough having Charles drag my corpse off a mountain, and if _you, if you were there..._ "

 

 

He doesn't look up, but he knows Javier does. Can see the _freeze_ in his movements, the halting quality to the strong strokes he'd set along the horse's throat. Can feel him _watching, watching, watching._ Those same eyes that had picked him apart from every angle, in every way, were back and settled in the base of his shoulder blades, as though the musician could see right through the skin and muscle, beneath the bone into the cavity that held his heart. His _lungs,_ that had once been blackened and sickly-thick, now healthier by the day and carefully putting itself back together. Just like his _heart,_ one that beat strong and _steady now, trying so hard-_

 

 

" It... would've been too much for me. Would've hurt a lot more. You'd already seen me wastin' away- "

" -I didn't mean it. All those things I'd said at Beaver Hollow. I was... scared, and alone, again. _Dutch_ wasn't who I thought he was. _You_ weren't who I thought you were. Everything was falling apart and I _thought..._ I don't know. I don't know what I thought. But I didn't mean it- "

 

 

 _just worry about that cough-_

 _just worry about that cough-_

 _just worry about that_ cough.  
  
The unspoken words echo, loud and clear, between them in the silence that collapsed into the barn. And Arthur fights the lodged lump in his throat with a _swallow,_ voice a quiet rasp-

 

 

" I know you didn't. "

 

 

Takes in a big, _big breath,_ deep and cool in his lungs that had once been _on fire_ with the simplest of breaths done too quickly, too sharply, too fast or too slow. _Finnicky._ It wasn't, anymore, hadn't been for a long time. And he's grateful for it, because it means he can shove the stall door out of his way and _turn._ Fingers twisted into claws, _reaching,_ and Javier is meeting him in the middle before he can go very far. Lets calloused hands _sink_ into the musician's shoulders, holding him _still,_ and they share breath in the moment Arthur lets their foreheads rest together. Can tell Javier is _counting them, every whisper,_ as though searching for a hitch or stutter-

 

 

" I'm okay now, y'know. Not... perfect but, you're right. Much better. "

 

 

 

 _That_ is what makes those coffee-burnt eyes flicker up to his- _meet. Settle._ Searching, delicately picking through the lines in the iris, the bursts of color and lack-thereof. _Allowed to, Arthur let him._ And he feels it, again. Feels thin fingers trail up the very edge of his hips, barely a brush against his jeans, that trails over his gunbelt and so, so _gently_ found purchase in the handles of bone. Seeps warmth into his shirt, pressing into his skin, and there is moment where they _rest_ against eachother. _Quiet, quiet, but the good kind._ The healing kind. The sympathetic kind. The _understanding kind._ And the stag can feel the other's lungs shudder with air in the shiver of his shoulders before they _jerk,_ like turning into stone, and the musician is blurting out and stumbling over his own words in a liquid _rush_ -

 

 

" Did you want to kiss me, back then? In Shady Belle? Is that... is that why you did _that._ "

 

 

Arthur is at a loss for words for a moment. Can't manage anything but a _sigh- watches_ the way Javier's eyes follow it like he can _see it._ Tries for a smile, manages to wrangle some kind of _twitch_ to his lips that feels like one, but he isn't _quite sure-  
_

 

 

" ... Yeah. Yeah, I did. Did... you want me to? "

 

 

 _Shy, shy,_ and he can feel the coils of desire and want shiver and curl in his stomach, in his chest, setting his fingertips alight where he's relying on Javier's shoulders to keep him upright and standing. Because _damn, is his strength fading real fast._ He's so, so desperate, _wanting._ Wants him _so badly._ Doesn't know exactly what- just wants _all. All of him._ Anything he's allowed to take. Anything he's given-

 

 

" Yes. "

 

 

A beat, _two-_

 

 

" ... Did you ask me to play fillet with you so you could get me on you? "

 

 

Javier's smile is real this time, _genuine,_ amused and just a touch _aroused_ in the way his voice curled a _purr_ in his throat, fingers tightening against Arthur's body-

 

 

" Did it work? "

 

 

Big breath, _deep breath-_

 

 

" Think so. Shot off that night. With the hand you kissed. Thought of you, and... Charles. Called your names. "

 

 

Of all the things Arthur thought would happen, he was _not_ prepared for the way the musician's gaze darkened, slivers of molten red-hot _crackling_ into his gaze, as his maw opened on a _full moan._ The way his head _dropped_ against the cowboy's collarbone, lips delicately pressed to the skin bared there with the looseness of the buttons of his shirt, a consistent pressure, _unending pressure._ And he almost _collapses_ at the way it becomes a _kiss,_ a sliver of a tongue lapping into the dip, teeth trailing sweet all the way up the cartilage of his throat. And he's _bending, yielding,_ far too eagerly but he can't bring himself to _care._

Not when Javier's teeth and lips sucked a bruise into the edge of his jaw. Not when tongue _curled up, into his skin,_ as words murmured hot and heavy into his ear that he didn't realize was so _sensitive until now-_

 

 

" _Both of us?_ Damn, Arthur. How _greedy._ "

 

 

 _Fuck,_ he almost, _almost_ whined. He can't speak, can't breathe. Not when a blush as hot and flaring as a sunburn settled into the apples of his cheeks, _he can feel it_ , simmering in his skin. And he had to thread his arms behind Javier's head to keep from sinking to the floor of the barn, chests pressed together and beyond the rapid, thundering beat of his own- he can- _he can hear it. Feel it._ Feel Javier's own heart like a rabbit in his chest, just as desperate. Just as _nervous._

Almost shakes with the weight in his conscious of the delicate way one of Javier's thumbs traced his bottom lip, _sweet and caring._ And it is a whiplash difference compared to the slick _arousal_ dripping from his voice as the musician pressed their foreheads together again-

  
" Really think you could've taken us at the same time? "

 

 

Oh, _Jesus, fucks sake-_

 

 

" Ya' know me, willin' to try anythin' once. "

 

 

It's all he manages to shudder out, with Javier's fingertips creeping along the thick of his flank to _dapple_ into the dip of his spine, delicately tracing the vertebrae through the thin cloth of his shirt. _Tantalizing._ And he decides to get _bold, get needy,_ because Arthur has waited for too damn long for this, _far too damn long-_

Jerks his head down, lashing fast and fierce like a _rattlesnake,_ lips pressing hard and _insistent_ against the musician's. Feels the smaller man stiffen, relax, tense, _relax,_ and then he's opening up on a _soft moan_ and nails grasp into the small of his back, a hand fitting his jawline into the palm. Keeping them close, keeping them _together,_ as Arthur laps the tip of his tongue along shivery lips that chase him. It's slick, _filthy, soft,_ as he burrs a _growl_ in the minute space between them when they part-

 

 

" An' I bet you want that, don't ya'? Want... want _me, like that._ Bet you feel real proud of yourself, makin' my heart an' my head go _crazy._ "

 

 

The stag barely manages to keep a grip on his vocal chords, just able to keep his voice _somewhat steady._ It shivers a bit, breaks in a place or two, but the meaning is clear in the husky-fog like he'd taken too many shots of whiskey. Knows that the fire burning in his blood, setting his body aflame, and the _pain_ nestled sharp and pulsing in his chest seeps into Javier in that moment- in the way his fingers _clench, hard._ Pulls them closer, _tighter,_ and despite the size difference, the musician grapples for control in an _instant-_

Arthur lets him have it, lets the man back him into one of the wooden posts, and lets himself be consumed by the pure, molten _heat_ of Javier's body and his _searing_ kisses.

    It _burns, burns_ in all the _best ways-  
_  
        Tongues tangled, curious _pressure,_ teeth delicately needling the flesh into _groaning-  
_  
            _Feels good_ when the full weight of the musician's body forces his legs open, _hard weight,_ and he can't stop some kind of strangled noise in the back of his throat.

 

 

" _Dios,_ yes, _Arthur._ Always wanted to hear what _pretty sounds you'd make._ "

 

 

 _Fuck, fuck,_ this is _far_ more intense than he'd been prepared to face, but the feeling of _heat_ encompassing him, surrounding him- well, he's fast losing his _mind._ What was left of it, anyway, with Javier's thumbs slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, _digging_ into the hot flesh of his skin in the same moment teeth _sank_ into a collarbone-

Wringing him tight, _tight-  
_  
The stag had long since lost any sense of shame, anything at all, aside from feeling the puffs of breath against his face and the tenderness with which he was held, heat coiling like embered hands emboldened up his _spine, hot-  
_  
Wound the flats of his palms down the musician's spine, grabbing _tight_ at his simple belt, so plain and yet so _real_ beneath his touch. A look that fit the coyote better, _much better,_ than the covers of fine silk and leather and pretty-eyed buttons. But more than anything, anything, Arthur wanted to see him without _anything at all-_ managed to worm his fingertips into the back pockets, digging into Javier's ass and _tugging,_ presses their cocks together _hard, hard,_ through the fabric of their jeans.

 _Delighted_ in the quiet noise the smaller man breathed against lips twisted into some kind of _smile, some twitching thing,_ he wasn't quite sure what. Grapples with the concept of _power_ for a moment, _two,_ before a hand finds it way into his hair and _tugging back,_ opening him up to lips to press into the cartilage in the same moment Javier braced- _drove forward._ Until they were rutting against eachother like animals, leaking in their pants and yet unwilling to let go, _can't let go._ Can only feel this, _just this,_ burning and boiling under their skin and imprinting into the flesh like the bruise Arthur's teeth had tied high on the musician's throat, like the purple blooming along the handles of his hips where Javier's fingers were coiled _hard-  
_  
There is the softest of a _wheeze_ in the cowboy's throat when the sensations become all too much, _too encompassing-  
_  
    Javier slows, _slows, patiently slow,_ until they merely rock together and their forehead press solid bone into the other-

 

 

" _Ah, olvidé._ You alright? "

 

 

All Arthur can do it twine the meat of his palms behind the other's throat, a pressure that makes him _buck_ briefly, wrangling some sort of strangled, dying noise from their gasping maws. As bleary as his head is, as _hot as he is, as hard as he is,_ the stag can _feel it._ The nervous energy throbbing beneath Javier's skin, shivery deep into his bones and infecting his heart where it jackrabbit-pulsed against the cowboy's, chest-to-chest, and _knows._ Can see the glimmer of it, the bare _glisten_ in the dark edges of those bottomless pitch eyes, peering at him and pinning him like a butterfly beneath the black-

    The _fear._ The haunting one, like cobwebs in the corners and silhouettes mistaken for persons-

        The idea that perhaps a movement too hard could have Arthur shattering apart all over again.

 

 

" Yeah, yeah, 'm fine. Told ya', I'm better now. Can handle a hella' lot more than this, just... don't always sound real pretty. "

 

 

Whatever instinctual defense he wished to fall into, he couldn't. Not when Javier caught him _instantly-_

 

 

" You always sound pretty. "

 

 

The purity, the _sincerity,_ in the thoughtless remark seemed to make them both _pause,_ hovering in space and existence and locked blue-and-black together. Hits them each, square in the chest, and their breaths are rattling when Arthur surges to press their lips together, hot, _heavy,_ when the musician groans and presses _up, up,_ on his tiptoes to rub them together again. A deep, grounding _pressure_ that has them both growling into their _teeth-_

One of the horses makes a noise of some kind and they break apart, already halfway to  _laughing_ by the time their lips parted, staring at one another all mused-and- _wanting-_

 

 

" ... Should probably not finish this in front of the horses. "

 

 

Arthur feels like some young, spry buck with the way Javier can't keep his hands off him, even as they make a valiant attempt back towards the house, stumbling and snarking all the way. _Just_ manage to get the door closed by the time there are hands ripping his shirt the rest of the way off his body, pushing him into doors and walls in a blind stumble for somewhere _softer._ Manage to tumble into the cowboy's bed, still unmade from that morning where the three of them had woken together, and the vision seems to have Javier sobering a bit even as he drags his fingernails down the length of stomach before him-

 

 

" Mm, Arthur, I- are you- is- does Charles know? About... _this._ "

 

 

At a loss for words, he manages some pathetic kind of gesture between them, bitter-coffee gaze just a touch _nervous_ when Arthur's fingers hook into his belt loops and tug them together again, the stag sprawled on his back on the bed with the smaller between his legs. Feels good, _feels nice,_ and he can't help but _smile_ at the anxious way Javier regards him. Like he's some wild, precious thing he isn't sure whether it'll bite or purr-

At this point, probably _both-_

 

 

" Shit, Javier, of course he does. He gave me some... _encouragement_ , yesterday, you could say. Look, I ain't pressuring you into nothin', but I want you. Charles is fine with it. You're part of us, in every way. This too. If... I mean, if that's what you want. If you want it, it's here. I'm here. Been wantin' you for a long, long time- "

 

 

Javier, it would seem, enjoyed cutting him off with the sensation of his fingers _sinking_ into Arthur's flesh, dipping beneath the waist and curling, _curling,_ until he's got a hand wrapped around the larger's cock and a tongue is lavishing his mouth, sliding  _together._ It's hot, it's heady, it's _achingly wanting,_ when the cowboy rises to the _pleasure_ of it all- gets his hands into the musician's shirt, untucking the plain white cotton and slipping suspenders off his shoulders even as clever fingers set to work twisting liquid at the tip of his cock. Has him _growling, lurching forward and up, up_ from the bed to sink his teeth into Javier's shoulder, lapping at his collarbones as his white shirt hangs unbuttoned across his frame. One _thin, still thin,_ but stronger than when he'd first come back with them to the homestead.

They were both still healing, it would seem. But strong enough now for a little _misbehaving-_

It was a fumble and flurry of expressions and tastes, grabbing at every inch of skin they could, until they could do nothing but _fall, fall into it._ The cowboy had allowed himself to fall plaint, fall _vulnerable,_ to the way hands curled into his and pulled them up, up, pressed above his head into the bed. Heavy, hot weight sliding between his thighs, Javier's cock _dragging_ against the stag's as his hips nestled against the shivery pelvis beneath him. Rutting, _rutting,_ and Arthur can't help but falling prey to the bites littering his collarbones, his throat, teeth impressions into his sun-kissed skin as memories he would _never forget, not ever-  
_

 

 

 

 

 

Opened up on a _moan-_

 

 

" _Yes, Arthur._ Good... good, let me hear you... like _this._ "

 

 

Fingers twisted into claws, palms clasped together and digging into the sheets as Javier threw all of his energy into thrusting back and forth, _back and forth,_ grounding deep and heady, cocks beading slick and wet and soft together. _Again and again,_ higher and _higher-_

Black creeping into the edges- growls _dark-_

Shivering and shuddering muscles, twitching and jerking against one another's, bare stomaches pressed together and _God, it feels good,_ and they hadn't even needed to get their pants off-

 

 

" Fuck, Javier- "

 

 

As if on-cue, whiskey-toned palm wrapped unrelenting around them both where they rolled together, the other fumbling to hitch Arthur's thigh up against Javier's hip, kept him _open-_

 _Gasping, gasping-_

 

 

" C'mon, Arthur, c'mon, _mi rayo de sol_ , déjame ver. "

 

 

They're so close, _so close,_ with _this, everything, it meant **everything** -_

Arthur's muscles clench _hard,_ managing to throw his freed hand around the coyote's neck to _sink_ into the thick of his shoulder blade, hanging on for dear life as everything _broke, broke,_ just like how he'd wanted. What he'd _always_ wanted, to have the drive and the need of Javier's body to bring him to _this,_ shattering into pieces as cum splattered up their stomaches, dripping into the edge of the cowboy's slid-up shirt but he didn't care, _he didn't care._ Not when the smaller man didn't stop, didn't let him _breathe,_ as the leaner frame jerked once, _twice-_

 

 

" Goddamnit, Javier, _on me-_ "

 

 

 _Thrice-_ a choked noise like he's dying rising in the maw pressed to the stag's throat-

 

 

" Fuck, Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur, mi hermoso príncipe,_ so... beautiful, querido, like _this-_   _unh-_ "

 

 

It was _hot, so hot,_ to feel opaque paint come slick across his stomach, mixing with his own against his stomach- _branded, owned._ Many, many years ago, he may have felt it _demeaning._ Felt _lesser._ But no, not now, and not here. Not with Javier _shivering_ against him, breaths panting desperate against his face where lips rasped kisses against his flushed, upturned face, too weak to reciprocate. No, this felt _right._ Felt _good._ Felt the way things should be, twice as strong as they'd been before _now-_

 _A beat, two, three-_  
  
_breath slowing...  
_

 

 

" Damn, Javier, how long you'd been wantin' that? "

 

 

The coyote's laugh is something soft, something _precious,_ in the way their lips met warm and soft, words whispered as gentle as the touch of a rose petal's caress against the skin-

 

 

" A long time, Arthur. Real long. You okay? "

 

 

There is the softest catch hanging off the edges of Arthur's breaths, rasp a bare hint to the air, but of course the other man would know, of course- he was a _musician._ Ear attuned to the music of life, everywhere and everything that it was, and it just so happened the stag meant a whole fuckin' lot to him. But there is no pain. No _deceit._ No _lying._

Not with them both pliant and spent, satisfied,  _together-_

 

 

" I'm... I feel great, Javier. You good? "

 

 

There is something glittering, warm and sweet, in the deep of the musician's eyes as they peer down, _down, down,_ black and blue pouring together, mixing _perfect._ With the peach of the clouds outside, the glow of the sun, the bright of the new day dappling across their bodies, well... it was real damn _beautiful._ Was real beautiful to see Javier _smile_ like Arthur was everything he'd ever wanted in his life, noses brushing tender together-

 _Soft inhale-_

 

 

" _El sol se convierte en ti._ I'm real good, best I've been in years. "

 

 

Their laughter is shared that time, the meaning explicit and twinkling between them. Hands are gentle, soft, as they help the cowboy to struggle into a sit, existences twining and dancing like twisted vines, flowers blossoming along their fingertips as they brushed the physical evidence of their passions off their stomaches. _Rest together,_ afterwards, both officially shirtless and lax, _languid,_ more than they'd been in a good while.

It felt right-

    Aside from Charles not being there.

But when he came back later that evening to see his boys laid up in bed together, quietly dozing the day away, it damn sure felt like coming home. Felt not just right, felt _perfect,_ when Arthur joined him in the kitchen to assist in dinner- Javier hot on his heels, grabbing at potatoes and ridding their skins with terrifying ease (Of course Charles and Arthur both didn't stop what they were doing to stare at the tendons and ligaments flexing in his strong, capable hands as he wielded his knife effortlessly-

Of course they didn't both shift on their feet and clear their throats, heat rising in their cheeks-

    Of course they didn't both feel slick honey in their guts, pleasant and desiring-

        Of course Arthur didn't drool just a touch, narrowly avoiding it only when Javier looked up at them both with _knowing eyes.  
_  
_Of course not._  )

  
At the dinner table that night, it had been the first time they'd managed to get the coyote to stay for the entire meal, chewing on tenderized meat with a thoughtful expression-

And when Charles had felt a tickle, bare and then strong, around his pinky and looked down, he was both surprised and elated to find Javier's entangled with his, eyes focused on Arthur's wild retelling of a boar he'd brought down a week or so back (a story the other two had already heard before, multiple times, but they both loved seeing their cowboy so full of life and energy for once that neither had the heart to ever turn down hearing it again)-

    The huntsman had fully slipped his hand into the coyote's then, confident and sure, and delighted to feel those whiskey-toned fingers squeeze back on the table-

When they retire to bed- Arthur's, at his request for them to stay together- it is the first time Javier crawls in with them when they're both still awake (normally, they just always ended up waking to find him in Arthur's bed). It feels _good, feels right._ When he sidled up against the cowboy's chest, tucking the larger beneath his chin in a way that seemed almost amusing if not for their knowledge of _who he was, what he stood for._ Protection, safety. 

Charles and Javier share a look that night when the huntsman pressed comfort at Arthur's spine. In the thick-black of the shadows, their eyes caught, unwavering and tentative. _Soft._ And neither were aware that they both fell asleep in the other's gaze until they were gone, dragged beneath the promise of dreams fraught not with nightmares or demons.

Just them. _Together._ Medicine shared for the broken-hearted, as it should be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, Javier's smile is so easy, so easy now. When those dark eyes flicker up to him, whiskey-toned fingers pausing in the swinging caresses they level upon worn strings, guitar an old friend in his lap. It was something he had been away from for so long, years now. Had missed it. 
> 
> This particular one was a gift from Charles, given away by a traveler the huntsman had assisted on the road.
> 
> Beautiful flowers inlaid, wood near-perfection, strings sturdy and strong, and Arthur couldn't fathom why anyone would give away such an incredible piece of art. The coyote had admonished him on that one- you are an artist, you should know better, girasol- and had said quite simply that music's life was sustained through sharing. As most art did.
> 
> Planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.

 

It happens again in the bath.  
  
     _Isn't that always the way?  
_  
It's _cold._  
  
Cold _out, of course._ It being winter and all, snow-laden across the countryside like a luscious blanket. Pretty, indeed, with its crystalline sculptures and wind-swept marbles of dunes- but with a farm of chickens and horses, all-in-all, it can be a bit of a _pain in the ass._ It'd taken them an hour the other day to corral all their stupid chickens into their winter coop, Javier's hands overflowing with feathers as Arthur chased after their particularly unruly ones. Of course, they were as demure as virgin petticoat ladies in Charles' arms, clucking so _innocently-  
  
    They are lying, don't let them fool you. Demonios. _Javier had griped at the plush faces, beady eyes staring back at him with blank gaze-  
  
    _I think we've found the first women that don't swoon to your charms, Javier.  
_  
Charles' retort had made Arthur laugh so hard he'd snorted some feathers into his nose, which resulted in them all collapsing in peals of howls as the cowboy sputtered and flailed and damn near tossed a dame out of the window in recoil. After the huntsman barely managed to grab her from the stag's hands and Javier's palms had come up to comfort the spine of their choking love, Arthur had promptly called it quits and stomped up off to the house.  
  
    _Bitter cold._ One of the worst they'd had for temperature since they'd come to settle at their little homestead.  
  
    But, recently, they'd been finding ways to... _stay warm.  
_  
It happens again in the bath.  
  
Javier rounded the corner in the same moment Arthur's clothes had dropped to the floor, naked as a jaybird in their little lean-to at the back of their modest home, bath already filled with water and the window dripping with condensation. And there it is- the  _moment. Again._ Where those dark, dark eyes fill with vibrant _light,_ reflecting the flicker of the candles lit about the shelves to stave off the night's encroaching eve. Like fireflies dancing in dark waters, delicate and _hot,_ as they roamed without a hint of shyness over the angles and curves of the stag's body. When their eyes meet, Arthur is paralyzed and Javier's fingers twitch and clench into fists where they hang at his belt-loops, _twitching, twitching._  
  
They latch _gentle_ around the juts of Arthur's hips when they press together, leather and worn-cloth brushing _skin-  
  
    _When the coyote _bows,_ gets on his knees like an altar, praying to the shivering skin beneath his lips- it _feels-  
_  
        When he gets Arthur on his back in the bath, legs opened wide so the other can settle between them, whiskey-toned hands rubbing against his swollen cock, rough and _tender- it feels-  
_  
            When the cowboy finishes with a soft _cry,_ hands slippery on Javier's wetted biceps, tongues twining, and those black eyes are _dancing- it feels-_  
  


 

When Javier lets him go after, helps the older man clean up and get to his feet without asking for anything in return-

 

 

_It feels like he wants more._

_Doesn't know how to ask for it._

 

It's not the first time.

 

" Have you considered asking him to join us? "

 

_Damnit, Charles._ Always the one with the good ideas, _the first steps._ There was a particular savvy in that, wasn't there? _Wasn't that always the way?_ This one arose after a particularly _pleasant_ session between the two of them, tangled up in the sheets of Charles' bed, sweat cooling against the skin where finger-pads pressed gentle, soothing caresses along shivery muscles-

    There are teeth imprints and _bruises_ branding them both, pretty buttercups and orchid sprigs-

It's not the first time Arthur had wondered what  _Javier_ would look like, covered _in the same._

The marks from their barnyard-to-bed tussle had faded since they'd first bloomed two weeks ago- the stag had stood in the mirror every day and traced them in the mornings when he dressed. Watched them bleach, watched them _wilt,_ until it was as though nothing was ever there. But he knew- oh, Arthur _knew._ Because the _itch_ never ceased. Never soothed. Never stopped its feverish beat.

    The _want_ never went away.

 

" ... 'Course. Just... ain't sure how ta' ask 'im. I don't know if he's ready for... for- "

 

A sharp, agonizing gesture to their naked bodies, desperate not to try to muddle through the post-sex haze of his thoughts to put it all into _words._ Because words would never be enough. Would never fully encapsulate everything that _this was._ That _they were._ All three of them.

    It was just a matter of getting Javier to _stay._  
  


 

" Hm. I've talked to him about it. About being  _more intimate._ He... well, he wants to. Told me as much, anyway. And what did I say, hmm? Talk to him. _Talk_ to him, Arthur. He wants to hear it from you. He needs to hear it from you. "

 

The morning light was quite beautiful dappling against the windowpane, settling warmth into the room that was still staggered in its chill of the winter's first breaths. Beautiful, perhaps. And damn _cold._

 

" I'll see what I can do. "

 

That age-old saying of imperfect promise had Charles _smiling_ against his mouth where their lips meet, a send-off for the day. 

 

...

 

It takes Arthur two more days to work up the courage to do _something more._ Now, he was never one to be particularly shy about sexual endeavors, no. He was one of the most notorious outlaws in the region- he'd had his fair share of pretty lips at his feet. _Fun, sure._ But it never _meant anything._

And when _he_ is the one who's planning on getting to his knees for someone who's mere stare made him _stutter,_ well, then things got a little more _dicey._

    Catches him out in the living room later, when Charles was " _checking the horses_ "  
        ( _we checked them earlier?_ )  
            _I know.  
_  
 _Oh._

God, Javier's smile is so _easy, so easy now._ When those dark eyes flicker up to him, whiskey-toned fingers _pausing_ in the swinging caresses they level upon worn strings, guitar an old friend in his lap. It was something he had been away from for so long, years now. Had _missed it._

This particular one was a gift from Charles, given away by a traveler the huntsman had assisted on the road.

Beautiful flowers _inlaid_ , wood near-perfection, strings sturdy and strong _,_ and Arthur couldn't fathom why anyone would give away such an incredible piece of art. The coyote had admonished him on that one- _you are an artist, you should know better, girasol-_ and had said quite simply that music's life was sustained through _sharing._ As most art did.

    Planting seeds in a garden _you never get to see._  
  
The cowboy supposed there was truth in that, when conjured images and memories of black wings and crowns of thorns bloomed and sparked in the spine, coiling fingers up the bone again.

 

 _we are dreamers in an ever duller world of facts, i'll give you that._

  
    Yeah. There was truth in that.

But he wasn't here to squabble artistic tendencies and think about the crow that still haunted his dreams and tapped on his window at night when he stayed awake for too long. No, that's not what he was here for.

    He was here for the musician's curious parting of _lips_ when the larger stag slowly dropped to a kneel before his throne, calloused palms placed on his legs. Moved to touch back- _stopped,_ by Arthur's hands pushing fingers back to the strings he'd been plucking, a question, a request, a _dare.  
_  
 _Keep going.  
_  
The way Javier's dark eyes got _darker still,_ like glowing embered coals on a pitch summer night, smoldering and _wildfire,_ that had Arthur's heart shivering beneath his ribcage. A bird's fluttering wings, disturbed from its resting place. The  _obedience,_ the _teasing way_ that the coyote's fingers began to play a song remembered from their times when they lived with only the stars as their roof. Tugged at his chest, pushed him forward on his haunches to place a _kiss_ upon those _stupidly pretty lips._ Relished in the _gasp,_ the shudder in his throat, the tension in the legs still caught in his palms _-_

In the way Javier's thumbing _never ceased- unbothered.  
_  
        Fuck, that was _**hot.  
**_  
The song filled the room, tension palpable between them as the stag got the belt beneath his palms _undone,_ teasing and _tensing,_ until when he pressed further, velvet thickness filled his touch, the soft whisper- _mi rayo de sol-_

Can hear the edge in it, knows what he wants to say-  
    _You don't have to..._  
  
Arthur didn't let him- tongued his slit too fast, too quick, and the intended murmur got all tangled and caught-up in his throat. The strumming paused, just for a moment, before it continued as silken and professional as always, pouring heart and soul through the strings as he let the cowboy suck him off right there on the floor. 

    _It doesn't take long.  
_  
When the stag sits back on his haunches, lips spit-slicked and breath rasping, _rasping in his chest,_ there is a warm hand cupping his jaw and _squeezing_ just beneath his cheekbones. Beckons him to stare, _stare,_ into pitch eyes and flushed cheeks and meet in a kiss that's filthy and emotional- more emotional than usual-

    It swells under his ribs, shivers in the _skin-  
_

 

" Join us. Me n' Charles. Next time. "

 

Manages to get it out surprisingly smoothly considering the rush of liquid heat that pulsated in the back of his throat as he tongued the words over his teeth. Was rewarded _immediately_ with a stuttering gasp from the man staring into his face, calloused finger pads in the stubble _tightening_ and it's solid and hard and _good._

Gets a kiss again-  
    Again-  
        _Again-  
_

 

" _Te quiero._ "

...

 

    Doesn't have to wait long.

Only a few days, with a frigid winter blitz rattling the edges of their pleated windows and hand-crafted walls- sturdy and strong, mind you, but ornery and complaining even in their young age. After all, who wanted to be outside in the cold?

Not them. Or Charles, or Arthur, or Javier, for that matter.

    It starts with a kiss after dinner.

Javier has him backed up against the hardwood, lips gentle but _wanting,_ coaxing but _needy._ Wants him, _wants him._ And the way Charles only pauses a mere moment when he rounded the corner and caught sight of the two most important people in his life entangled together like two particularly-frisky _cats_  before wrapping an arm around Arthur's jaw, keeping his face _still, still, still,_ for the coyote to have-

    Well... it was assumed that all three knew where this was going.

It was in the _look_ they created, the stag heaving and praying to whatever god existed that the logs behind him didn't decide to buckle from behind him, and the coyote and the huntsman sharing in a mixture of caution and _relief, encouragement._

 

" Now... now I know I ain't the most patient man in the world, but I 'bout to get like the meanest bull you ever did see if we don't get goin' on this. "

 

Says it in a _rush,_ just in case his nerves threatened to break on him-

    _Revels_ in the achingly-fond way the two men looked at him in return, hands thumbing his face, soothing along his ribcage like a startling _horse. Well,_ they were all quite good and settling spooked animals, _weren't they?_ He appreciates it. _Loves it._ But he doesn't need it, not always. Doesn't need it to be gentle, doesn't need it to be _soft_ all the time. Loves Javier's fingers trailing gently down his naked skin from where he's splayed out on Charles' bed, the coyote and the huntsman still mostly-dressed-

    But he doesn't necessarily _need it so soft.  
_

 

" He can take more than that, Javier. "

 

There is a sense of _uncertainty_ in the deep curve of the eyes that flickered between the two men, and Arthur has to work his throat and swallow a few times against Charles' thigh before he can speak-

 

" 'Member what I told you?... I ain't always sound pretty... but I'm _fine_. "

 

It lingers, still, in their minds.

    The fact Arthur escaped death by a narrow skin of his _teeth.  
_  
        Lingers in his _chest, still, sometimes,_ especially with the colder weather settling a bit of a _rattle_ in his lungs, a choppiness to his breaths.

But he was fine. _Fine._

And when Javier's fingers dug into his hipbones, hard, _harder,_ until it was clear there'd be bruises there by the next 'morrow, and leaned down to give a sharp nip on the delicate skin beneath his naval-

    And Charles' hands pressed down on his shoulders, kept him _still,_ and set to work meandering a bouquet of red-purple blooms along his chest-

        And when he couldn't move, _couldn't move,_ as the coyote took him down his throat too fast, _sandpaper-rough-  
_  
        And when Charles smothered the stuttered noise bubbling in his dripping _maw_ with the press of his clothed cock against his lips, long hair tickling the expanse of his torso-

 _He sure felt fine, damn right._

    Shaking, _shaking, his legs are shaking-  
_  
Can't stop the shivers, the little twitches under his skin, even with Javier and Charles holding him still, holding him _down- possessive-like, care-like._ There's wildfire in his skin, spreading from the tips of the coyote's fingers, against his tongue where he pressed hard against the huntsman's warmth just to feel his thighs _tighten._ It feels wonderful and overwhelming, too fast and too slow all at once. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten undressed, aside from the two men holding him gently between them and letting lips wander every patch of skin they revealed with their wandering fingers.

    Barely manages to work it out of his mouth, the _plea-  
_  
 _ **Please.  
**_  
Charles kisses him softly, gently, from where he towered over the prone man, belt undone and pressing warm into his skin as Javier settles between his legs, working him open with gentle and reverent words. And the two simply _watch him_ for a moment, Arthur's abdomen jerking every time the coyote twisted his fingers _just right-_

It was like they couldn't get enough of watching this man, this man who had been living in rags and desolation and _pain_ for _decades_ now capable of _this,_ so soft and so gentle in his coaxing of the stag's body to _relax._ It makes something heavy, something twitchy, something _hot_ curl in his stomach like hot coals chased by a whiskey shot.

    Has his mouth opening, opening, whispering soft against Charles' thigh-

        _Fuck, please, please-  
_

 

" Codicioso. "

 

It's murmured with a certain kind of _reverence_ that sends iron rods through him, can feel the skin beneath his palms _harden_ just a touch, and when he looks up- sees Charles staring at the way Javier's fingers glide easy, _easy into him,_ with a look of desire and pleased _headiness._ When he speaks, it's with a husked _softness-_

 

" Move your fingers up, curl them back- right- "

 

 **Fuck- _fuck-_**

 

" There, good, good. He can take it. "

 

He's heaving- he's already out of breath- whispers _again- please-_

Javier seems to take pity on that, this time. And when Arthur manages to stop hiding underneath the huntsman's crouched figure and haggards a look _down_ to whiskey-toned palms spreading his thighs and eyes, _black as night,_ staring him down with a mixture of heated wishes and _fear,_ it feels like that moment in Shady Belle-

        _Tongue on his cut fingers, a confession, a promise-  
_  
Charles keeps his mouth busy, _croons quiet_ in his barrel chest, as he presses his cock up, _in,_ between Arthur's lips and teeth to rest, gentle as anything, against his tongue. Lets him hold, lets him _breathe_ , even for just a moment as Javier's pressure, _weight,_ settled against his pelvic bone-

    Whines,  _whines,_ in that ungraceful and unmanly way that you wouldn't catch the usual run-of-the-mill cowboy with-

        But he's long past caring, especially when he gets an _answer_ in the way the heat in his maw jerks and the hands on his hips _tighten- fuck-  
_  
When Javier is all the way inside him, there is a moment of _stillness._ Just the three hearts beating in-time with one another, listening to one another's breaths whispering in the space, Arthur splayed out across the bed with legs thrown up around Javier's from where he's using the floor as leverage, his breaths whispering against Charles' thighs where they bracket either side of his head.

    Pausing, _pausing-  
_  
And then the huntsman is moving, little pushes of his hips, dragging at the cowboy's lips and Javier, _transfixed,_ holds still only a moment longer before he angles,  _pushes up, in-_

 

" He can take it harder. "

  
 _And then it's all bets off._

The coyote is fast, hard, hipbones sharp against the meat of Arthur's thighs, and the callouses on his guitar-string-worn fingers _rippled_ across his skin like the teasing tip of a knife. Drags red lines across the suckled bruises on his stomach, creating new ones as they pressured into the skin and muscle-

    _Imprints himself, for all to see, on and in everything that Arthur was.  
_  
    And he loves it. _Feels loved.  
_  
In the way Javier's staring at him, heated and panting ragged and wet, in the way Charles tweaks his nipples and pressures fingers into the sides of the cartilage keeping him _breathing_ in his neck, thrills him with the maddening pulses of his hips, cock dragging and _leaking_ in his mouth. He's drooling- _doesn't care-_

 _Doesn't care-_

 _Not_ when he looks up and sees the coyote and the huntsman staring at _one another,_ eyes  _locked,_ and Arthur fumbles his hands up as far as he can stretch himself to get their dual attentions. Beckons jaws forward, above him, until the two are mere inches apart and he's _smiling_ around Charles' cock, mumbles unintelligible along the thickness.

    _Narrowly_ avoids sinking his teeth in with his grin when the two finally break, _finally,_ and meet in the damn sweetest kiss Arthur'd ever seen in his life (aside from the ones they gave him).

    Sucks just a little _harder_ around Charles, just to watch him _gasp_ into the coyote's mouth- just to watch Javier pant an open-mouthed smile against swollen lips, hooded eyes watching the pleasure break out over the huntsman's face. Digs his heels into the backs of the coyote's thighs, dragging him closer, and _curling_ his own hand around darker hipbone, _just_ to watch his eyelashes flutter and brows furrow and for Charles to kiss his cheeks.

He's almost laughing- _almost-_

    Because he had long since thought dreams couldn't come true, and yet, here it was- one near and dear to his heart, happening right in front of him.

        Arthur doesn't mind them catching his _cheekiness_ when the full force of their heated eyes, _achingly fond,_ return to watch his face- a playful, admonishing slap to his ass has his mouth watering, and Charles has a low laugh in his throat, and Javier's smile is _wide, rare-_ and his hips _drag, drag,_ ** _grind,_ **into the stag's, and he feels it _simmer_ under his skin-

 

        _it's hot, so hot, under the velvet-_

 _hands are everywhere, pulling everywhere, and when they roughen up against his cock, he's seizing-_

 

Charles pulls out to let him _moan,_ gritting his teeth against the bedsheets, and the two men are soothing soft coos into his ears as his body shivers, _shakes,_ and releases all of his pent-up _frustrations_ across his stomach, thick ropes to his collarbones. Is catching his breath as the huntsman stiffens, hand working over his own cock, before he's murmuring this low, dark thing into the air as his own cum plasters against Arthur's willing face-

    Javier goes to pull out- _kept still_ by the stag's heels in his thighs, and their eyes meet- questioning, wanting, _desiring, **loving-  
**_  
        The coyote obeys the unspoken command- after all, didn't Arthur deserve it?- and his body is shivering, _shaking-  
_  
        Arthur and Charles' hands hold him through it as he comes deep and with a soft _groan, growling with teeth,_ and it has the stag shaking all-over.

 

" ... Well, shit, why- why ain't we done that sooner? "

 

Arthur just barely manages to choke it out, revels in the tired laughter that fills the room in response, and _preens_ quietly beneath the soft and gentle touches across his body in response.

    The looks in their eyes says all he needs to know, fondness and love so _deep_ and marinating that it feels like he's basking in sunshine.

  
They all settle together that night, after they'd cleaned up a taken as much of a bath together as three people could in their tiny little bathtub at the back. Arthur is tucked up again between the two, dragging the sweet taste of exotic fruits and unique cigarette smoke lingering off the lapels of Javier's shirt where he's got his face pushed up again. Feels Charles' breath at the back of his neck, even and calm, and palms running soothing and  _reverent_ along the line of his spine.

    He kisses them both- nudges Javier's chin until he gets the message and meets him, turns his head over a shoulder to meet an expectant Charles. Hunkers down beneath their chins, fills out the space between their chests, and _smiles_ when he feels, hears, the two meet in a gentle kiss of their own. 

        And where his hand is, curled up against the coyote's chest, is wrapped up in Javier's fingers and engulfed by Charles' palm.

    Tied together, _three birds on a wire_.

 

With no care or want to be anywhere else in the world than _where they were_ now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long guys, and is a little short and lackluster. i'm trying to get back into writing again! it's been a crazy few months and i'm sorry for my lack of activity. hope you enjoy! i'm back to working on my other requests now c:

**Author's Note:**

> not my best ending but i stan arthur and charles being in a Gay Panic together over javier using a knife really well. also, threesome in the next chapter so stay tuned.


End file.
